War Is Coming
by CasandChar
Summary: Robert's Rebellion has ended not one day ago, and already Ned and Cat find themselves setting on another adventure- another one of war, betrayal, love and loss. Major AU. Starks, the Fellowship, etc. OCs galore, and OC/Canon pairings! R/L/J theory.
1. Prologue

Hello all! Thank you for checking out this story!

Now, I know it's kind of trippy and weird, but that's really only to introduce the portal. _  
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Some of you in the Star Wars and Game of Thrones fandoms might know me here as leapylion3. Welp, my friend Charlotte and I decided to write this crossover! So, this account and story were born!**  
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Enjoy and thank you! Reviews are warmly welcomed! :D

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**_Prologue_**

Eddard Stark- recently appointed Lord of Winterfell and Warden in the North- slowly climbed up the steps, his heart pounding in his ears. The war had aged him, worn him out. He felt like he could collapse at any given moment. When was the last time he slept? A month ago? What he would give for a minute of sleep...

_You have a job to do_, he reminded himself sternly. _It's why you're here, Ned. To get Lyanna. So you can go home. It's what you've been fighting for._

At the top of the stairs was a long, seemingly never-ending hallway. A huge wooden door was at the end. With a newfound sense of energy and a rush of adrenaline, Ned ran to the door. His legs felt like lead, but he _would not stop_.

He fumbled with the door handle, his fingers numb and clumsy. A baby's cry made his breath catch in his throat. Lyanna...had she been carrying a child this entire time? Ned shook his head and pushed open the heavy door. _Impossible_.

The bright white of the room blinded him for a moment; it had been months since he had seen something so pure and clean. He was used to dirt, mud, and blood. Gods, had he become acquainted with blood. The room was bare except for a large bed at the center of the room. His heart stopped. On the bed was a frail and weak Lyanna Stark, a small babe in her arms.

She looked up at her brother when she heard his footsteps. She looked as if she aged ten years. Her grey eyes were not the light and sparkling ones he remembered. No, now they were dark, hard, and full of fear. _Does she remember me? Lyanna...please don't be frightened. It's me. It's Ned. I've come to take you home. _

"Ned?" His sister's lips moved, her voice barely making a sound. The babe in her arms gave a gurgle and sucked eagerly at her teat.

"I've come to take you come," Eddard murmured, slowly walking to the bed. He took a seat next to her, careful not to make much noise.

"I'm not going home," Lyanna declared, tears welling in her dark eyes. "I'm dying, Ned."

"Don't talk like that," he pleaded. "We'll go home, _together_. We'll…" He trailed off as he spotted the large pool of blood on the bedclothes.

"So he's dead, then?" She clenched her jaw.

Ned lowered his head. "Jaime Lannister killed the king not two days past."

"_Not him_," his sister spat out. "You know damn well who I mean, Ned. _Don't_ play dumb with me."

The Lord of Winterfell sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes. He died right after his father."

"Robert?" Her voice was tight.

"Who else?" he replied quietly. "Lyanna, it had to be done. After what he did to you-"

"You don't know what happened, Ned!" she shouted. He was surprised that she had enough energy and strength to raise her voice. "No one does!"

"Tell me, Lyanna. _Please_." He gripped her hand gently yet firmly. His eyes bored into hers.

"We ran away together. He didn't kidnap me- he didn't _hurt _me. Everything that happened was agreed on both our parts." The babe in her arms reached up and tugged at her long hair.

Ned looked down at the babe and studied him; dark, curly hair, like his mother's. Grey eyes and a long face, like the rest of the Starks. No trace of Targaryen whatsoever. "He's beautiful, isn't he?" Lyanna cooed, her anger evaporating once her eyes set on him.

"What's his name?" Eddard inquired.

"Jon," his sister replied, amazed and completely fascinated by the small boy. Suddenly, she looked up at Ned, tears swimming in her wide eyes. "Promise me, Ned." Her breathing became shallow. He could practically _see _the life draining out of her. "Take care of him. Take care of my Jon."

"Don't talk that way," he begged. "We'll go home." She gave his hand a weak squeeze.

"Promise me, Ned," she repeated, her thin fingers slipping from his. "Raise him as one of your own. He'll make you proud." Eddard reached over and wiped at the single tear running down her cheek. "I'll see Father and Brandon." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I'll tell them that they won."

"What about you?" Eddard interjected. "You're a Stark- _you_ won, too."

She shook her head, using the rest of the energy she had left. "I didn't want a war. I wanted _him_. And now both of us are dead." She breathed a laugh. "I'd hardly say you won if you died."

Ned's protests died on his lips when Lyanna closed her eyes for the last time. Jon, sensing what was happening, opened his mouth and let out a loud cry. He waved his fists in the air and screamed, tears streaming down his face.

"Lyanna, don't." For the first time in a long time, he let himself cry. He took Jon from his dead mother's arms and held him, silently crying as the babe wailed and squealed. _Promise me, Ned._

They stayed that way for what seemed like hours. Even the sky had begun to cry. Ned heard the distant sound of thunder cracking, raindrops hitting the closed shutters, and the beating of horse hooves. Jon had long since fallen asleep, curled up against Eddard's chest. The babe's skin hot to the touch. His skin was almost…_burning_.

"Lord Reed!" the Lord of Winterfell called, standing up, but careful not to wake Jon. He looked down at the babe; _poor boy. He'll have the name Snow for the rest of his life._ Stark furrowed his eyebrows; Howland had followed him into the tower and up the steps. He was waiting right outside the door…"_Howland_!" Ned shouted, pushing open the door. The same dark hallway and grey, crumbling steps from before awaited him, yet…the Lord of Greywater Watch did not.

The Warden of the North slowly descended the stairs, his throat dry and his eyes unblinking. Had they killed Howland, too? Had another one of the Kingsguard joined them, and killed Reed? Would Ned be next? His stomach churned as Ned thought of what would happen to Jon. Right now, Lyanna's child was his one and only priority.

Abruptly, the infant's eyes flashed open. Jon Snow was silent as he stared up at his uncle, his mouth pursed in a fine line. Eddard could have sworn that he saw fire blazing in Jon's dark grey eyes. The babe seemed to reach for the door and made a growling sound in the back of his throat.

Hesitantly, Eddard Stark pushed the door open, his eyes never leaving Jon's. Instead of seeing the sandy landscape of Dorne he expected, he was surrounded by lush, green grass. The rain fell gently onto his head and seeped into his clothing. An immense, pristine white city rose above in the distance. Ned could make out some banners…a tree of some sort. He didn't recognize it, nor did he recognize the city.

_They need you_, a voice whispered in the wind, traveling by and teasing his ears. _A war is coming. They need you_. The voice was almost identical to that of Lyanna's. _Promise me, Ned. Promise me…they need you…they need you…_

Ned looked down at the babe in his arms. "Where are we?" Jon Snow just smiled toothlessly, the fire still blazing in his grey eyes.


	2. Chapter One

Hello, everyone! This is Charlotte, the co-writer of this story and it is also my second story that I am writing-the first being a story about Zelda. I had just recently got into Game of Thrones and I would like to thank Cassie for improving the chapter I wrote..and I would like to thank you, dear readers, for checking this story out. Reviews are always welcomed!

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_**Eddard**_

Still cradling the baby, Eddard had no choice but to continue forward, despite being in an unknown region. First stop, the massive city that looked like it came out of a dream. It was so beautiful and exquisite; one would think that they had strayed into a reverie once they had laid their eyes upon it.

Soon enough, Ned had come upon a huge stone gate that seemed ancient and antique. The stones were a shade of a silver-grey. Looking down, he saw baby Jon smiling with glee. _Such a beautiful child. _

Before he could react, the doors opened and out came two guards; one was tall and slim, while the other was short and stocky. "Hail, stranger! What business do you have being here?" the tall one demanded, his voice stern.

"I am lost and I need aid; tell me, ser-"

"Anion," he retorted. Ned did not appreciate his tone.

The other one stepped forward and gazed upon the newborn baby boy. "Is this your child?" Ned held the boy closer to him, making sure he was kept safe from the strangers, while still making sure he wasn't being smothered by the armor he was wearing.

"You have business with me, not with the child."

"Fair enough, although I suppose you ought to answer Anion's question before he angers."

Ned was in no mood to argue, and therefore answered as honestly as possible. "As I told you before, I am lost, but I know that I was brought here for a reason. I would ask thee to allow me and the boy to enter your city."

It took the two to think about it first until the short man turned to face Ned and signaled for him to come through the city gates. From the outside it looked huge, but from the inside, the walkways were narrow and therefore it looked smaller than what it actually is. Houses were formed along the walkways and it was all one shade of white. The stones were cleaner inside than outside the walls and everything seemed cold, despite being a beautiful city. It would make a man cringe if he were the type to hate enclosed spaces.

Many people eyed Ned and the baby strangely as Anion and the stocky guard guided them to a home that would be suitable for them until they figured out what would happen. His attention remained focused on the grey eyed baby and he found himself smiling; looking at the child that had belonged to his dear sister. Jon had his eyes closed whilst he gently sucked on own thumb.

Eddard and the guards continued their march towards the enclosed city streets. Around each corner was a banner with the White Tree of Gondor, although the sigil was unknown to Ned. At last he arrived in front of a white stone door where the two guards left him and the babe to enter the inn. Ned gently rocked baby Jon to and fro before cautiously entering the main room. _They need you, they need you, _the voice once more repeated to him.

Inside, he saw people drinking, others eating some kind of meal and others that danced to the bard's song. It wasn't all that different from his homeland, but yet their accents where unknown to him. Ned noticed a light coming from the glass window all the way across the room which allowed the people to have a light source during the days. This place was fit for a king. There were tapestries hanging on the wall. Nice dining tables with sturdy chairs and unique decorations and patterns filled the stone hall.

"A war is coming," Ned found himself whispering- to either himself or the boy- he hadn't noticed. That was when the babe woke up suddenly and let out a little cry. Suddenly his weariness slowly crept to every point of his body and Ned forced himself to the counter where the woman brought him to a room. It was quite big for a room that one rented and the bed seemed good enough for someone to have a goodnight's rest and recover.

Ned, still holding Jon in his arms, removed his garments and lied down on the bed, quickly falling into a deep slumber. In his dream, he saw Lyanna appear suddenly whilst she held Jon Snow in her arms. "A war is coming. They need you, Ned," she repeated once more. Alas, she disappeared and he was now engulfed by the darkness surrounding him. "Wait, come back! Lyanna!" he shouted, but all he heard was his own voice echoing endlessly.

In an instant, Ned woke up. He dried the sweat off his face, the baby still in his arm. In the doorway, he saw a tall shadow looming over him. "What is it?" he asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

"Come with me. The Steward of Gondor requests your presence."


	3. Chapter Two

Hey! Cas here!

Sorry for the delay; I was in Stratford for three days, so I didn't get a chance to post this sooner.

Thanks to everyone who reads/faves/subscribes and reviews! We love you guys!

Enjoy!

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**_Eddard_**

The guards pulled open the doors, the loud creaking of the wood echoing in the otherwise silent hall. His footsteps and heart pounded in the same steady rhythm. He clenched and unclenched his clammy hands and swallowed thickly. "Your Grace," Eddard Stark knelt in front of the middle-aged man. "You said you had business with-"

"There is no _grace _here," the steward spat. "Gondor needs no king." His thin hands tightly gripped the armrests on the throne. His cold, hard eyes scrutinized the Andal.

"Yes, my lord," Ned said quietly, meeting the older man's gaze.

The Steward of Gondor reclined in his throne. After what seemed like eternity, he gave a small gesture with his hand, his eyes never leaving Stark's. "Rise." Denethor steepled his long, bony fingers together. "What are you doing here?"

"I was summoned here by one of your guardsmen, my lord," Ned answered, confusion crossing his features. Had the steward already forgotten about him?

The older man waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes, I know. I meant what are you doing _here._" He gestured to the almost empty throne room. "What brings you to the great city of Minas Tirith?"

"Truth be told, my lord, I don't know," Eddard replied truthfully. "I know nothing about this place, nor have I heard of it before. I am from Winterfell."

"And I know nothing of _that_ place," the steward retorted. "How did you get here?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that either, my lord."

The Steward of Gondor's lips twisted into a scowl. "You don't appear to be much use." He gestured to one of his guards. "Cenneth. Bring in the woman." He paused for a moment. "And the babe, too. Both of them." The guard nodded and left the hollow room.

He returned moments later, with a familiar young woman in tow. Her expression was one of fear and uncertainty, her blue eyes darting back and forth. A babe with tufts of auburn slept soundly in her arms, subconsciously hanging onto her loose red hair with pudgy fingers. "Cat?" The Lord of Winterfell managed to croak. She ran into his arms, relieved to see a familiar face.

"Ned, I'm scared," Catelyn Tully whispered. Cat, who had always been brave and dutiful, was trembling in his arms.

"It will be alright," he assured his wife, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. The guard, Cenneth, handed Lyanna's son to Ned. Catelyn looked at him in disbelief, clutching Robb tighter to her chest. Eddard gave her an apologetic look, silently telling her that all would be explained shortly.

"She was asking for you," Denethor informed him. "Your wife, I presume?"

"Yes, my lord. Thank you for returning her to me." Ned bowed his head respectfully. "My lord, if I may ask, where _is_ Gondor?"

"Common knowledge, Lord Stark."

"My lord, how-"

"We are not as uncivilized as you may think. We know how to get answers."

"If you hurt-"

"To answer your question, Gondor is situated in Middle-earth. I don't know where _you've_ been all your life, but-"

"Westeros." Ned fought the urge to strike the steward.

"Yes, well, considering your garb, your world can't be too different from ours." Denethor wrinkled his nose. "Although your accent is rather odd." He let out a deep sigh and rested a booted foot on his thigh. "And no, we did not hurt your lovely lady wife. She gladly answered our questions, and in return, we have given her and the babe quarters in this castle. However, they are large enough to accommodate the four of you." His lips curved upward in a sickly, almost sinister, smile. "That will be all, Lord Stark. I'll make sure that you're well-rested and fed."

"I thank you, my lord," Stark replied stiffly. Two guards led him and his wife to their new chambers.

"How did you get here?" Ned and Cat asked each other in harmony once the door was closed.

"T-the tower," he stuttered. "After Lyanna's death. There was rain, a-and horse hooves." He ran his fingers through his greasy and matted locks. He suddenly felt as if he'd taken milk of the poppy; his legs threatened to collapse at any given moment, and his eyelids became increasingly heavy. "Jon's eyes. T-they were like..._fire_. I can't explain it." He looked into his wife's deep, sky colored eyes. "And what about you? How did you and Robb come here?"

"There was a fire," she explained, her eyes flickering to Jon Snow, who was sleeping in Ned's arms. "The flames were...it seemed almost as if...as if they were _talking_ to me." Absentmindedly, she gently rocked Robb to and fro. "'They need you', they said. 'A war is coming'. When I stepped closer, I was falling..."

"They said the same thing to me," Eddard murmured, his eyes glassy.

Cat straightened her back, emotionless and determined once more. "Is he yours?" He could hear the ice in her voice.

Ned slowly shook his head. "Sit down." Reluctantly, Cat obliged, eyeing him suspiciously. "Lyanna wasn't kidnapped by Rhaegar." His voice was low and monotonous as he gently put Jon on one of the cots. "She ran off with him. They had a child together." A small smile found its way onto his lips as he admired the sleeping infant. "His name is Jon."

"He looks like you," Cat said tightly. Robb stirred in her arms and yawned, showing his toothless mouth.

"He has the Stark look," Eddard agreed quietly. "I promised Lyanna that I'd take care of him. Those were her last words to me." He sighed and sat next to Catelyn on the bed. "I know it may be against your wishes, but please, try to understand." He reached over and tentatively took her hand in his own, his fingers intertwining with hers. "It was Lyanna's last wish."

Catelyn stared at Jon, unblinking. Ned could see the conflict swimming in her bold, blue eyes. She opened her mouth finally, her words barely above a whisper. "We will treat him as if he were our own."


	4. Chapter Three

Hullo, readers! I hope you enjoy this new chapter and I hope you will continue reading this story. Love, Charlotte.

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**_Catelyn_**

It was near dawn when Catelyn woke up. She could see that both Jon and Robb were sleeping soundly and occasionally moving from one side to the next. Her worried face quickly turned into a sigh of relief and Catelyn then placed her hand on the side where Ned was sleeping, only to find it empty. "Ned?" Her voice showed no signs of panic.

"I'm right here, Cat." She shifted from her left side to her right and she looked upon Ned's dreary face.

"I thought- no, I-" Her voice shook and she clutched onto him, giving him a tight embrace. Some of Winterfell's scent still lingered on his clothes and hair, making her feel as though she was home for a slight moment. Catelyn then fixed her garments and kissed Ned on the forehead. "I'll be back shortly, Ned."

Much to his dismay, he gave her one last hug, and then tended to the infants. "Do not be gone too long."

The halls were quiet and guards were located at each stone obelisk. They paid no heed to Catelyn as she walked along the corridors, nor did they blink (or so it seemed). The decorations were subtle and only the black banners with the sigil stood out.

In the distance, she saw two boys; one had auburn-like hair and the younger one had fairer hair. They were both chasing each other with wooden swords. Their giggles filled the hall with life. The older boy overcame the challenge and had beaten the younger boy.

Cat saw the fair-haired boy run to Denethor. "Father! Father! Boromir won't stop chasing me even after he won!"

The old man's face grew red with anger and he furrowed his eyebrows. "Enough, Faramir! Stop pestering me with such tomfoolery! Perhaps, if you tried harder, you would be a good as your brother."

The young boy's head dropped to shoulder's length and soon enough his brother picked him up. "You should be nicer to Faramir; he works hard."

"Working hard isn't enough."

Boromir walked towards Catelyn and brushed past her; she could have sworn she heard the little boy silently whimper until they were so far gone that all she heard was the sound of her calm heart. It felt like an eternity before she budged, only to walk back to the room. "Are the babies alright?" That was the first thing she said walking in.

"Jon and Robb are still sound asleep," Ned replied, grabbing Catelyn's hand. "You look tired; you ought to sleep."

Catelyn tightened her grip and sat by him. "I am fine." She paused at thought of Denethor. Thinking about him sent shivers down her spin. "I do not trust that man, my lord. There is something about him….something….disturbing and sinister."

Ned cupped her face with his large hands. "I do not trust him either, Catelyn, but we were sent here for a reason."

"Yes, I know." Catelyn's mind still focused on Denethor and his two children. If he treats his children (mainly Faramir) like that, then how on earth will they be treated? What about Robb…and Jon? Denethor did not take too kindly to visitors- especially those from different worlds entirely. There was something odd about him; something she didn't like.

Her thoughts were then interrupted by the sound of Robb's wailing. Catelyn picked the babe up and exposed her breast; her nipple formed a perfectly round circle. Robb began to vigorously suck on her nipple until he was fully quenched. Jon was still sound asleep.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and two ladies appeared before them. "Lord Denethor would like you to join him for breakfast. Do not worry; we will keep a watchful eye on your children." Catelyn and Ned did not like it, but nonetheless, they went ahead and left their children behind with two strangers.

They walked along the corridors and entered the dining hall. There they saw Denethor sitting at the edge of the long and slender stone table. On the left side was Boromir and Faramir. The table was caked with silverware and goblets, along with forks and knives, platters and plates and bowls.

"Sit down," Denethor commanded. Cat and Ned obliged. "I trust you slept well," he said.

"Yes, my lord." _I am not blind; I can smell the stench of false kindness from a mile away. _

A smile appeared on his face. "Good; I am glad to hear it. It's not every day strange people such as yourself come knocking at my city's doors-"

"_Your city?_" Ned interjected.

"Yes, _my city._ Have you forgotten? I am the steward and I am in charge of this City until the king returns…but that will never happen." A sinister smile formed on his lips. Ned and Cat stared at each other blankly and then back at Denethor.

"Father?" Faramir asked his father with a small voice.

"Not now, Faramir." That was all he said to the boy. "Now eat." Denethor began to chew on his food and tomato juice ran down his chin. He then wiped it away with a handkerchief. "Lord Eddard, are you ready to tell me about why you are here? It has peaked my curiosity…and, well, seeing as how your family just showed up unannounced has some of _my_ people on edge."

"As I mentioned before, my lord, I do not know why I was sent here, but I assure you, it must be something important."

_They need you…they need you…a war is coming. _


	5. Chapter Four

Hey, it's Cas!

You guys, I am so sorry for the super long delay! Holy shit. That was so terrible of me.

BUT the updates should be coming more frequently now.

Again, super sorry!

Thanks to everyone and all their support! It means a lot.

Enjoy! xoxo

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**_Five years later_**

**_Robb_**

Robb sat in front of the fireplace with his twin brother, Jon. Winter was upon them, and Mother had told them to stay inside. Father always spoke about how the winters back in Winterfell were ten times worse, with nights that lasted for months and snows a hundred feet deep. Robb never knew what he was talking about, though; the only place he had ever known was Gondor.

He liked it here well enough, he supposed. There were a lot of children his age, so he and Jon would play with the locals. It did get rather boring sometimes, on rainy days, or on cold winter nights such as these. Jon was quiet and shy, and didn't speak much, not even to Robb.

Robb wasn't exactly sure how Jon and he were brothers; they were polar opposites. Robb had red hair, Jon had black. Robb had blue eyes, Jon had grey. Robb was outgoing and loud, while Jon kept to himself. Maybe that was why they got along so well. They balanced each other.

However, these inner thoughts were much too complex and boring for the mind of a five-year-old. Robb sighed and rested his chin on his hand. "I'm bored."

"You said that ten times already," Jon replied from next to him, turning the page of the book he was reading. Robb had never cared for books; he much rather liked to go outside and practice his sword fighting and archery with the other little boys.

"Well it's still true," Robb huffed. He fell onto his back, lying on the thick furs their mother had placed on the floor. "I don't see how you could read those all the time." He looked at the cover of his brother's book and frowned; _The History of Middle-earth, Volume II_. He much preferred the exciting action-filled tales of the knights and the maidens.

"It makes you think," Jon said.

"Are there pictures?"

"Maps and such, yes." Robb groaned at that.

"Why don't you read a real story?" Robb asked him, rolling onto his stomach. "You know, with dungeons and dragons and knights-"

"Mother tells us those every night. I don't need to read any more of them," Jon said matter-of-factly, slamming the book shut. "You should try reading these. They're interesting."

"I already know the history!" Robb rolled his eyes; his brother was so silly sometimes. "We have lessons every day, Jon."

"It doesn't hurt to brush up your knowledge, or read a bit more." Jon seemed so much older than five years old; he sometimes acted as old as Father. He was always serious and stern, and it was quite hard to get a laugh out of him.

"I want to play a game," Robb declared, sitting up. "Do you want to play Knights and Maidens? You can be the maiden. You have the hair for it." He laughed and ruffled Jon's wild locks.

"We're only two people." Jon pouted, shying away from Robb's touch. "And stop teasing me about my hair! Yours is almost as curly."

"I don't care about it as much as you do yours!" Robb shot back, sticking his tongue out.

"So you wouldn't mind if I shaved your head right now?"

Robb ignored him. "We can ask Boromir and Faramir to play with us."

"They won't want to, you know that." Boromir and Faramir were a few years older than Jon and Robb, but they still sparred with them and played with them sometimes. Not as often as they used to, granted, but Robb was a stubborn little thing.

"How about you go and ask them!" Robb crossed his arms over his chest, ever defiant. Jon grumbled something under his breath and shook his head, his long hair being tossed from side to side. "Tell me what you said," Robb commanded, becoming frustrated with his twin.

"_Nothing_!" Jon snapped, grey eyes blazing. Robb stared at him in shock, taken aback by his sudden flare of temper. "S-sorry," the dark-haired boy muttered, frowning. "I-I didn't mean to yell."

"It's alright," Robb assured him, speaking slowly. He did not want to upset his brother yet again; he always knew that Jon could be fierce when he was angry, but he was never usually provoked this easily. He would even tolerate Boromir's teasing for quite awhile before he told him to stop, and even that was not as harsh as he had been now.

"So what do you want to do?" Robb asked, changing the subject. "We can go find Boromir and Faramir, if you'd like."

"I told you, they won't want to play with us." Jon's lips were set in a firm line.

"We can try-"

"You know what?" his brother cut him off, shooting up off the floor. "I'll go and ask them. Just to prove that you're wrong." He began to walk towards the door, still facing Robb and still ranting. "I can't believe we're related. We're so different, and I-"

"_Jon_," Robb warned, noticing that his brother was dangerously close to the wall. He didn't want to see him hit his head, or fall and get hurt. "You're going to-"

"_Yes_, I'm going to get Faramir and Boromir for my lovely brother-"

"_Jon_!" Robb cried just as his twin hit the candle holder with his elbow. The tall pole wobbled, and for a moment, the two boys thought that everything would be alright. But the candle tipped over and Jon ended up catching it with his bare hands. He let out a whine of pain before dropping it to the ground.

Robb rushed over to him, babbling nonsense and demanding to know if Jon was alright. Robb was on the borderline of hysteria, crying and shaking his brother. Jon, on the other hand, was surprisingly calm and collected.

"Show me your hand," Robb ordered. Jon obliged, holding up his reddened hand. Robb frowned and inspected it. "You don't have any burn marks." Despite the bright red color of his brother's fist, and a faint scar on his palm, there was no evidence of him being burnt.

Both brothers looked at each other, and declared in harmony, "We have to tell Father about this."


	6. Chapter Five

Hullo, people!

I hope you enjoy this next chapter; it took me a whole day to write this. Ehehe. Don't be afraid to share your thoughts on it and don't be afraid to tell me how I can improve on my writing.

That's all for now,

Charlotte

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_**Eddard**_

It wasn't long after that the two Stark boys went running to find their father. Panting and sweating from the scare they had earlier, they made their way to the main hall where Lord Denethor and Eddard were speaking. At once, they stopped in their tracks when Denethor spotted them. The old man gave them an icy glare. It was not a secret that he didn't like many people, including the Starks. In fact, he was even seemingly beginning to loathe his youngest son, Faramir, the more he grew older.

He whispered something to their lord father's ears, causing him to turn around. "What is the matter, you two?" Eddard rushed over once he saw the looks on their faces; seeing his two boys like this put him on guard. Robb and Jon only looked at each other, both blinking as they urged for their father to come with them, so they could talk in privacy. One of the reasons was because Denethor scared them, for something was off about him, but mainly because they didn't want to make this known to just anyone.

Once they entered the lightly dimmed room, Lord Eddard placed them on the wooden chair located near the stone wall. "What is wrong? Did something happen?" Jon only nodded whilst he stared at his hands. It was quiet for a few moments, only to have Robb break the silence. In one breath, he cried, "Jon was going to get Faramir and Boromir, but then he tripped and the candle dropped on his hand and he got burned by the fire, but when I looked, he was fine! No burns or anything!" The poor boy's face was red from being out of breath.

"Is this true?" His eyes went from looking at Robb to looking at Jon, who was hiding his hand. Jon gave another simple nod and Ned went to grab the hand to inspect it. Lo and behold, there wasn't anything on it.

"It hurt," Jon finally said, "and I thought it would be burnt, but it was only red."

It took a while, but, finally, Eddard told them it was nothing to worry about and urged them to return to their room and play; maybe even invite Boromir and Faramir to play as well. Though, he didn't let them go without giving them a reassuring hug and kiss on the forehead- and on Jon's burnt hand.

Unfortunately, this meant he had to talk to Catelyn, as much as she would disapprove. It had to be done for this was quite serious. _I shouldn't worry the young ones; not now anyway. _ Once the boys finally disappeared from sight, looking relieved, Ned went to his chambers where Catelyn was taking care of young Sansa Stark.

"Back from talking with Lord Denethor?" she asked Ned whilst holding Sansa, who had her head resting on Catelyn's shoulders.

"Aye," was all he said. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Catelyn, I need to speak to you about something." She waddled towards him and he helped her sit on the bed for she was currently carrying a child. Eddard soon followed and sat beside her. All the while, Sansa wouldn't quiet down, until her father picked her up and cradled her- that proved to be effective.

When all was calm, Ned began to speak. "Jon and Robb came to see me today."

"That's kind of them," she said with a smile as she stroked her swollen belly.

"Robb told me that a candle fell on Jon's hand, only it didn't leave a mark." His voice became serious-it filled the room with eeriness; a feeling Catelyn was not friend's with, "Do you think it could be related to-"

"_Don't_! I don't want to hear it, Ned. We managed to build a comfortable life for our children, and I don't want one thing like that ruin it for me." She was enraged now- even her nostrils flared- which caused Sansa to begin wailing again. "You will not speak to me about this."

"Cat, its import-"

"Don't 'Cat' me, Ned." She took the toddler into her arms and tried her best to stand up. Finally, she calmed herself down. "Please, Ned, not now. Besides, I need to take care of Sansa."

Being the kind and noble man he was, Eddard respected her wishes and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry, Cat." Even so, the room became quiet.

"Please, Ned, just leave me be. I need some space." This conversation certainly rattled her, but perhaps it was the wrong time, and with that, Ned bid her farewell.


End file.
